


From Hell With Love

by Blanketempress



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Retribution Spoilers, also some blood at the begining, but the last chapter is fluff??, now that i think about it, so uh it's angst, there's violence but nothing graphic just good ole punches in the face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 17:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanketempress/pseuds/Blanketempress
Summary: Alien (you know the one) talked about Basil being sent to the Farm and thinking Wei sold him to them so there you guys goTitle stolen from Battle Beast's song because I suck at titles but I want to make people think I'm amazing and clever





	1. Chapter 1

You are wounded, bleeding out in your uniform. Not yet beaten, still standing, still fuelled by anger and adrenaline. You grit your teeth, put one foot in front of the other, only collapsing once you reached your first aid kit. Withdrawal made you dizzy and gave you a headache, drugs and blood-loss made it unbearable.

The way home is blurred in your memory. You managed to escape, for the third time. A team was sent almost immediately and for once you stopped caring. Blood flowed, you tore what you could from their minds. Did you kill them ? You’re not sure. You do feel a ping of regrets. They were just tools, like you once were, no choice, no freedom. They don’t deserve to be destroyed. But Re-genes are hard to beat, hard to keep down. So you hit harder than you should have. More ruthless than you’ve been in years. In a decade.

You press your back against a wall, tear the fabric of your suit open and start working. Cleaning the blood, sewing the flesh, bandaging what you manage to reach. There are dancing lights in the corner of your eyes but darkness does not swallow you yet. Once you’re done you take a moment to breath, to calm down and think.

The rage in your heart cools down, far from vanishing but it’s now flowing like ice through your veins. You need to get out of here. You know what to do, you know what needs to be done. Nightmare will get one last show and then you both will vanish. Forever. Damned be Ortega, damned be whatever it was you were trying to build.

Damned be _Marshal Steel_.

There’s a pressure on your chest, preventing you from breathing correctly. Anger, again. It gives you enough of a kick to get up, though you have to grab onto the nearest table not to fall back. You saw the headlines, read the articles. How he sold your secrets. Sold you.

You step toward the case in which you left your suit. It’s still there. Which means this place has not been compromised just yet, maybe you’ll be able to catch some rest. But suit comes first, they won’t catch you unprepared. You set up your movement sensors, a few explosive charges, and you go to the heart of your lair, right next to the sewers’ entrance. All you need to do is press a hand on the floor and you’ll reach the endless corridors under the city.

As soon as your breath slows down and you close your eyes, flashes from the past weeks appear. How they caught you. You remember _Steel_ going to talk to whoever it was who directed the operation. You remember thinking that he would do something. Somehow you were surprised when you realized that no one would come to save you. Somehow you were surprised when you realized that you did the same exact mistake that got you caught last time. Trusting people.

They all can go to hell. You don’t need them. You can start again wherever you’d like now, they did not clear your accounts, you can be at the other side of the globe in just a few hours. No ties and no traitors in places where no one knows your face. This time you’ll make sure no one ever remembers you.

Sleep comes easy, maybe too easily considering the shape you’re in. It’s the ringing of a movement sensor that wakes you up, you browse briefly your surroundings to check for mental signals. One person. Dampeners.

So, Steel it is. You’re now wide awake, fury turned into a block of ice in your brain. You could press just one button and get the whole building to crumble on him, while you run to safety down the tunnels. Would he get hurt ? Probably not enough.

He’s probably only bidding his time. Knowing that you would love to punch him to pulp, to crush whatever bones he’s got left in his body.

Deep breath. You close your eyes briefly and try to understand what you are feeling, why it hurts so bad. You still love him. No need to lie to yourself in that moment, it would only weaken you. This is the man you love, who in return chose to destroy you, who did not even have enough pity for you to kill you. Oh you could show him what they did. Would that make him feel guilty ? Satisfied ? You tried so hard, for so long, just for him. You tried and tried to fight your bad habits, to get better, to live a life. Idiot. You should have done all that for yourself, there only ever was you. For someone born alone in a tube it’s only fitting to live alone, to die alone.

You walk to meet him, and you’re pleased to find out that your heart keeps a steady pace. You don’t freeze. He does. So you launch your first attack. You jump past him, always moving, as fast as you can so he can’t reach you, pressing your left hand on all the weak points of his armor, punching with the right. He’s not as fast as you, if you can guess where he’ll be, you can dodge.

He calls your name, you ignore him and keep up with your work. Little by little the nanovores eat through the metal, not yet enough to do damage but eventually he changes his strategy, steadying his pose. You don’t manage to hit the same spots twice now, he’s protecting them. Not attacking. That’s weird. You stop your attacks and take a step back, this is no time for stupid mistakes.

He calls out for you again. This time with a nice « I just want to talk » attached to it. You really want to punch him in the face, break a few teeth. Break his nose and make him bleed. But that would be reckless. Instead you focus on his thoughts. Dampeners are not perfect shields, and you have grown a lot. Still growing.

You always had a thing against going in his head, now you get in and you’re very ready to mess up everything you find there. You turn love into ice spikes. Impale him with them. Every little memory you shared turns into a dagger, that you use against him. Every touch, all of these lies are so easy to turn into weapons. Payback time.

He falls to his knees, much faster than you expected. You stop and take a step forward, detonator in hand.

“Don’t move too fast, marshal. I just need one push to throw a few tons of concrete on you. It’ll take hours to free you.”

You’re only slightly surprised when he raises his hands. Slowly. Huh. So this was really all just distraction while he waits for reinforcements. You scan the surroundings, trying to find moving voids created by dampeners, but there’s nothing. A clicking sound makes you almost jump. Steel took off his helmet.

Seeing his face you can’t help but snarl. Disgust. Lingering affection. Hurt. Lingering want.

” _Please_. Please let me help you.”

Anger threatens to melt the cap of ice. How dare he. You have to take a step back to prevent yourself from kicking him in the face.

“I’m leaving Los Diablos.” Your tone is neutral thankfully. “Try to stop me again and I will fucking destroy you this time.”

No answer. There’s confusion. There’s… Fear ?

Anger rises. _Burn. Burn everything._

You grab him by the throat, razor blades claws leaving trails of blood through torn fabric, on his exposed skin. Your left hand is still pressed on the elbow of his armor, nanovores devouring it too slowly.

“Why don’t you fight back?”

There’s something at the back of your head, growing. A worry? Too much care? You shut it down. Your thoughts are all over the place, like a storm preventing you from seeing what’s in his mind, all you can do is to tear everything down. You need this fight. You need to fight and win, but he won’t even give you a fair fight.

He’s still looking at you, opening his mouth as if to speak but forms no sound, air escaping him as if his lungs were crushed too under the pressure. It takes all your self restrain to let him go, withdraw your claws, leave the armor alone. Calming the storm is even more of a hassle. The howling of the winds eventually stop and you are back into this building. Back to here and now, to being on the run, to Marshal Steel looking beaten and bruised even though you barely lifted a finger. There’s still a growling anger, _hunger,_ deep down, ready to surface but for now you are in control. You command it.

“I don’t want to fight you.” he finally says. There’s determination in his eyes, this expression you know so well plastered on his face. Is he really trying to anger you more? You didn’t know anger could burn so bright, hurt so much.

“ _Fuck off_.” You throw a punch, claws digging through the weak point of his armor, a very bad move if he had been fighting for real, he just needs to grab your arm and slam you into the concrete. But he doesn’t. “Get back up and fight me.”

There’s a thought, too loud, bleeding out. You shut it off, raise your mental shields to try to escape it but you’re still shaking. About to crumble down. When you go for another punch he catches it.

Slowly he gets up, his free hand half raised, like you are some kind of wild creature that he’s trying not to frighten. You try to break free but his grip is too strong. Still holding you. You kick and punch but it does nothing against his armor. And you’re not sure if you want to fight anymore.

Your body is weak, anger falls, replaced by the despair that had been fuelling it until now. Your voice is probably breaking when you speak again, distorted enough by the filter in your mask that it’s not easy to pick. “Let me go…”

He brings you close instead and this time you freeze. Armor against armor. You’ve had more awkward hugs but this might be high on the list. It hurts and it feels like he just stabbed you through the chest. Tears running down your cheeks, body numb and shivering.

“Please, let me help you…” His voice is a whisper, almost pleading.

You try to fight back. You fail. He lets you go eventually, obviously waiting for an answer but you just stumble backward, mind blank and body numb. _How dare he_. But there’s no anger left, the ice melted into tears, revealing deep wounds under the surface.

“I want to trust you.” You shouldn’t.

Silence lingers, he is so still. You want to crawl in his arm, to feel him close to you and finally be able to rest. So you take a step back, then another. Away from him and whatever it is he’s asking from you.

“I need time.” you say, and it sounds almost like a sorry.

The brief spark of relief in his mind feels like a dagger in yours. “I understand” he says, and he really thinks he does. “You… You know where to find me.”

You nod, not sure of what you’re feeling and thinking, it’s like the whole world is catching up to you at once. Just one touch and you’re on your way, running in the underground tunnels of Los Diablos.

You wish you could say you did not look back, that you are not planning on coming back to him. But that would be yet another lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still angst :D

 

One can't really stay locked in forever. You found an abandoned subway tunnel, with an old staff's break room still half functional. The first few days you just slept, a deep slumber that you couldn't break from even when nightmares came crawling in the dark. Past and possible future melted and merged, it took you a couple days just to untangle dreams from reality. Even now you're not too sure which parts were true, which you imagined. Which one _they_ made you think were real.

After a week you finally managed to get out. Slipping in the shadows of the night, avoiding public lights and dodging passerby. Out in the streets the cold air is grounding, the quiet buzzing of sleepy or tipsy minds welcoming. Four in the morning, the dead of the night. You look up at the clouds, tainted orange by the lights of the town and you wish it would rain or maybe even snow.

Nowhere to go, nowhere you should be. It's finally a soothing thought. You did it once, did it twice. Three times is the charm. You remember what a wreck you were the second time, how lost you were the first. This time you are neither ; neither helpless nor afraid. And you have a plan.

Maybe you needed that, maybe you needed the extra pain, that seemingly endless spiral despair you were shoved in. You needed it to finally be one with Nightmare. Wearing the suit used to feel so weird, both freeing and terrifying. Now you don't feel any difference. Not a monster. Not ruthless. But you sure are not soft, there will be no hesitation this time. Take what you want, what you must.

You walk through the city. Through these streets you know by heart, that you've seen change and stay the same. Home. Maybe you will leave. Maybe you will have to burn it to the ground. So many places and so many memories, of golden sunny days spent with friends, of lonely nights where you couldn't sleep.

Your steps bring you through a thousand shards of life. You fought right there, in this building, when you helped the rangers dismantle a gang. Here there's still the bench on which you bled while you tried clumsily to bandage some wounds. Whatever Sidestep did, it wasn't always flashy and painless, it wasn't always worth mentioning in the media. Nightmare is the one who got the spotlight, who _strove_ in it. You did rob that bank, in the corner of the street. And you set off some explosives to cut off the power in the whole block here, just because you could, let's be honest. Bits of memories. Bits of your life.

You feel strangely calm when you get back to your current hideout, lost in thoughts. You remember how hard it was to be Sidestep, though now it seems like it came effortlessly to you. Same goes with Basil and Nightmare. Memories are devoid of all the stress, questions and conflict, smoothed out by time. Will you live long enough that one day you will see the upcoming weeks in a bright light? You certainly hope so.

  
  


It took you three weeks to finally work the courage to get a phone. You already feel exhausted when you press the buttons, you're absolutely not tearing up when after a few seconds Wei finally answers. It's just a neutral, almost dry “Yes?” but for a moment you forget what you were supposed to tell him, why you called.

One can't really stay locked in forever. One can't really keep running their whole life.

“Hi, Wei.” There's no answer so you take a breath and ad “I think I need your help.”

“What do you need?” This time the answer was quick. Not immediate, you note.

“Your memory.” You pause, not really knowing how to explain it all. You want the truth, for once. “I need to know what happened.”

He doesn't answer right away and you picture easily a hard blink, a slight frown. Somehow it brings a smile to your lips, that vanishes quickly.

“It's painless. I promise I won't wreck anything this time.” you try to keep your tone light but you still feel guilty. You shouldn't.

“Alright.” It almost surprises you that he agrees. You wait for conditions or some kind of bargain but there's nothing of the kind. Now, just don't cry. “When do you want to meet?”

You rub your face and try to get your thoughts back in order. “Is _where we first met_ a bit too dramatic? I don't think anyone would watch that place.”

He probably picked up why you did not give an address and he doesn't ask for more information. Finding a place both of you knew but no one else would know of was not easy, you doubt that his conversations are all spied on, or that the one who are after you would be the same ones listening, but better safe than sorry.

So you set the meeting in an hour. Because _right now_ is not doable. You start thinking too much again as soon as you hang up. You're prepared, in case of a trap. The most vital parts of your armor are in your backpack but you're still wearing your skinsuit under your hoodie and jeans, and you made sure that the nanovores' gauntlet is the easiest to grab.

It won't be a trap. He could have set one up last time. But instead he just refused to fight, just talked nonsenses. You bring the hood in front of your face. The beard almost grew back to normal, hiding some scars, allowing you to feel like yourself though it's messier than it used to be. For the hair it will take much longer.

It won't be a trap. Doesn't mean you shouldn't be prepared. You did not set explosives on the nearby building like you wanted to. Now you regret it.

What if-

The thought does not have enough time to fully form, you spot him through the eyes of strangers, that you're borrowing to keep watch over the block. You spring to your feet, unable to stay put in the back alley you were waiting in.

You pace for a while then get out to meet him halfway.

The look on his face makes you cringe. It's a terrible mixture of relief and... Sadness? Let's call it that. He scans you from head to toes, you roll your eyes. It's only now that you are in front of him that you realize what a poor image you give, dressed in stolen second hand clothes, slouching again, more jumpy than you should be. It shouldn't matter what you look like. Somehow it does. So you shrug.

“Yeah, yeah, I look like shit, I know. Mind if we get somewhere safer to chat?”

You met there twelve years ago. Terrorist attack, civilians involved. You got there before the rangers did and with Charge's help, you managed to clear the place. Steel's mission was to secure the surroundings, you only saw him once all was over. No thoughts filtered, no expression was visible through the helmet. He barely acknowledged you. He still remembered it, it seems.

“I thought you were the coolest of the rangers, before we met.” The thought kind of escapes you, outloud, but he doesn't look proud or flattered, merely curious as to why you would mention this. “Then I thought you hated me, after a couple meetings.”

You lead him through a couple streets and into the alley on the side of a building, where you open a door leading to a basement. It used to be a bar, the kind of illegal night time type of bars, until it was busted and moved to another place. It's empty and most of the infrastructure is done but there's still a stage and broken glass on the floor.

“I did not _hate_ you.”

“Yeah, you said so a couple times.” it's still sweet to see the pinch of his lips. How he does regret. “Alright this isn't the most romantic location but it will do.”

You drop your bag with a loud and heavy clunk on the stage then you drop yourself, sitting on the floor legs crossed, rubbing your temples. “So... I'm pretty sure that my memories are fucked. I don't really know what's real and what's not.”

“And you'd like to compare with my own?”

“Yeah. And try to fill the blanks.” you shrug, trying to not show the fear gnawing at your guts. “Under other circumstances I guess I could take my time to ask question and compare versions, but I'm kind of in a hurry.”

Wei crosses his arms. This whole time he's been looking at you, with the kind of look that makes you feel sick, that makes you look away. “Are you sure that you are up for that?” The question is soft, said with such deep concern that you feel anger rise, then it dies and you just look down.

“I'm good.” That's a lie and you both know it.

Instead of arguing he comes to sit back to the stage, next to you but not quite too close. Silence is heavy from all the unsaid things floating between the two of you, he's the first to break it.

“I tried to find you.”

You bring your knees to your chest. That was the last thing you wanted to discuss. You're not too surprised that it's the first thing he brings up. “Didn't think someone could escape our great marshal”

He frowns, takes it too literally as usual. “It's actually way too easy to my liking.” He turns to you with a softer look on his face “We will have to discuss some things, about that. Later.”

“If you want to know more about the house where they build walking vegetables with the spare pieces of real people, I'd be more than happy to tell you what they do. The who and how though, I don't know shit about.” Not entirely true, not entirely a lie. You know more than you should, more than you wish you did.

Wei doesn't answer, his thoughts not really focused on the conversation. You kind of suspects but you don't want proof of what's going on in his mind. It would be so much easier if he hated you. If you hated him. Feelings, emotions threaten to overwhelm you, too contradictory, too heavy.

“How can I help you?”

Your laugh is pitiful, almost broken. “So you really do want to help me? Despite everything you know, everything I did?”

“I'll do my best.”

Silence stays as still and tensed as you. You're so very glad that you're wearing your hood and that the room is only lit by one weak neon light on the ceiling. You can hear it crack from time to time, see it flicker.

“They said you were the one who called them. It was all over the media, too.”

He grits his teeth but does not react much. “I figured that somehow you came to think that, after last time. Of course for the one time in a decade that the media is showing us in a good light it's for the wrong reasons.” He raises a hand slightly, in your direction, then stops himself halfway through. “I did not call anyone after you. If you need to confirm it by going in my brain, fair enough, do it.”

You hesitate. For a second you almost want to say no, that it's alright, that you believe him. Instead you push the hood back and turn to face Steel. Your determination melts a bit when you remember what you did the last time that you went into his head. Not that you have very strong regrets. Yet. If he lied you should be able to crack it, you doubt someone without an intensive training would be able to create fake memories convincing enough to fool you.

When he turns to you he does look almost nervous, under the neutral mask. Anxious. “Should I close my eyes?”

“If you'd like. Some find that it helps focus and relax.”

You close yours to avoid his gaze. Deep breath. Relax. And here we go.

You focus on the waves of his thoughts, feeling the surface before you dive in. This time you stay gentle. This time you don't touch anything, it's just sightseeing. There's nervousness, you were right. You focus on that, and you find how reluctant he felt about doing this, how hard he had to fight his instinct. For your sake. There's regret, there's worry, concern when it comes to that wreck he met. There's dread and anger. It all tastes so different, so sweet to finally access it all.

You leave emotions, focus on memories. There's you of course, just a moment ago. You take that trail and go further.

Days.

You see his apartment, checking his phone maybe a bit too often. Spoon at his feet whines and looks up, so he pushes worries and questions deep down, keeping them for later, for a time when it will change things to think too much of what went wrong, of what could go right.

Weeks.

You see what happened just after your last meeting. You feel the efforts that he made to put everything back in order. Going into someone's mind is like going into someone's apartment you told him one day. You went there and wrecked all you could. It's not gone, nothing is really broken, but you made a mess and now he has to clean up. Put the cherished memories back in their secret place, sweeping the bad under a rug, shove horrors into a closet. He has to deal with painful events all over again, to deal with pains he thought were buried. It's a wonder that he did get back up. Once more.

Months.

He was late to the scene. Just on time, but already too late. He did try to talk to someone, only meeting one word answers, an order to stay out of it. He saw you, beaten and half conscious, blood pooling, restrains too heavy and strong. Anger rose, he thought of fighting them, thought of breaking you out-

The vision fades. Yours doesn't really clear when you open your eyes, heavy, tired tears blurring it. You can't feel happy, can't feel relieved, just hollowed out, empty.

“They did that the first time too. Gave me updates from the outside world, left some newspapers in plain sight so I could see how no one bothered to search for me, how everyone had already forgotten about me. Like I never existed.” You press your sleeves on your eyes, lights dancing through the dark. “I should have known. I'm pretty sure that they've got something to manipulate memories. Just because I don't remember it doesn't mean it doesn't exist, right?”

Exhaustion must inhibit a lot. You know you should already regret talking so much but crap, it's _Wei_.

“Everything is a mess.” you conclude.

“I noticed.”

You read it in his body language that he wants to say more, to hug you. So you get up, awkwardly, headache making blood pulsate in your brain. “I need some time. To sort things out.” It's almost an apology but not quite.

“Where will you go?”

You shrug “I'll stick around. For now.” you don't admit that you're only staying for him. It's hard enough to admit that to yourself. “I have some plans, I admit. I want a life, I want to stay free, and that will never happen as long as _that place_ is still standing and the people running it are still alive.”

Slight frown. Strangely enough you don't get a lecture, just a “How do you intend on taking that place down?” Seeing that you don't answer he continues “Attacking the building itself, the physical structure, it won't do much damage. I'm certain that whoever really runs it doesn't work in it, and whatever installations they have, there are blueprints of them, ready to start again in another place.”

“So what? Am I supposed to hide until they die of old age?”

“Let us help you.”

You kind of knew this would come. You know him well enough, you've seen his current state of mind. It still takes your breath away for a second.

“The Rangers work for the government.” Your answer is half hearted, a line you repeated to yourself too often, to try to convince yourself that they would never be allies again.

“Maybe so. It doesn't mean that we approve of everything that's going on. And this place... The Farm. It shouldn't exist.”

There's anger and disgust aimed at it, when you touch the surface of his thoughts. Helplessness too. You wonder if he would have reacted this strongly if he had not been this attached to you. There's still a gap to him. The Farm is the place you were taken to, it's terrible and grows fake people. But it's were you were _taken_. He somehow does not realize completely that you were _grown_ there. That they own you, legally. But you're too tired to clear that up. Too tired to talk much more.

“Glad we agree.” There's nothing left of anger or pain to resonate in your words.

He takes a step toward you, seeking for contact, for a touch. If you give in you will break, you know that. So you deny him that comfort, you deny it to yourself and move away.

“I need time.” Your voice is almost a whisper.

There's a flash of something on his face, regrets or pain, but he nods. “I understand.”

You try to smile, it must look forced and half broken. “I'll call you. Or... You have my number, right?”

The goodbyes are dry, despite how strongly you both feel. Until you meet again. Until it doesn't hurt as much to look at his face.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok there's fluff now you can look I guess

You find a strange comfort in nightmares. Images, sounds, sometimes even touches and tastes. Distorted truths, realistic lies. Pain that stings but eventually they all end. Nightmare is so fitting for a new name. You used to be a dreamer, to have pretty ideas, back in the golden days. The world was just as dark but you thought you could hold a candle and pretend it was the sun for long enough that the shadows wouldn't seem so frightening anymore.

For weeks now you've been tearing yourself from the sheets with muscles tensed, eyes open wide, sweat running all over your body. Did you scream when you felt the restrains all over again? Did you cry when they took you apart once more? Or did it feel like going back home. Like old habits forgotten.

Four in the morning.

You stumble on your feet and put some milk in the microwave, adding too much honey in it. Tia Ortega told you it worked wonders against bad dreams, Julia teased you a bit about it later when she saw you making some, calling it a child's drink. You are glad that it doesn't remind you of your first years of life. Instead it's just warm and soft, calming. You pretend that you're not tearing up.

There are still too many memories interlaced in your brain. Yours, other people's, made up memories and your own lies. So you take a sip and let the smell of honey bring you back to better days. When you learned how to be real, how to pass as human. You're tempted to take your phone and give Julia a call. You're not sure if she would like to see you. She liked to pretend that everything was alright by her, that she would always be there for you, but you don't dare to think it did not change when she learned the truth. Maybe it's worth asking Wei, next time.

Half asleep you press the buttons, send a hazy text, and you go back to sleep.

  
  


Getting up is the hardest part of the day as usual, when you reach for your phone it tells you that it's midday, and that you got an answer to a text, sent at four and half, answered barely ten minutes later. Let's meet this afternoon. You curse your past self but you still agree.

After the abandoned break room in an old subway station, you upgraded your standard of living, now squatting a luxurious empty apartment. Digital codes are much easier to bypass than real locks, to you. The owner went to live at the other side of the world, and judging by the dust that settled everywhere, they did not even see fit to keep hiring a cleaning crew.

You shower and try to do something about your hair, but it's still too short to look half decent, curling out of control, so you settle for wearing a cap. You pack up everything before your leave, who knows if you'll be able to get back there tonight. Not that there's a lot in your backpack at the moment, Nightmare's armor is taking almost all of the space.

Sunshine bites when you step out, you have to take a moment to blink and take a deep breath before you're ready to go. The meeting is only in a couple hours but you need to clear your head and moving around is a relief after weeks spent locked in.

You walk past a bakery, the smell reminding you that you're running on an empty stomach. Pastries are not a healthy diet. It's not the most unhealthy thing in your life. So you get out of there with enough sugary things to feed a whole class of starving kindergartners.

Without asking your brain, your steps brought you close to Chen's flat, about an hour too early. You asked to meet him at his place, because you don't feel like staying outside, or in a public space. Because you managed to convince yourself that there will be no trap. No armed people waiting for you. No one following you there. Sure they are probably keeping an eye on the Rangers' places, now that they are sure that you could run back to them. But it's the Rangers, they will have to think twice before trying anything. Besides, it will just be a one time visit.

You knock on the door instead of ringing and he comes to the door almost immediately, there's a beeping sound and it opens.

“You're not at work, Marshal?”

“Emergency situation.” he answers in a deadpan tone, but there's this softness on his face, that makes you wonder how you could ever believe the lies you were told about him.

You almost push him out of your way to get in, doing your best to kill the butterflies growing in your stomach. Thankfully there's a happy bark that comes to save you, and you can look down to greet Spoon.

“I know it's not nice to be too early but I got bored.” You straighten up and turn back to Chen, this time it's the bag of pastries that you use as a shield. “Want a cupcake?”

“Basil sharing his food... That's unheard of.”

“Just because it's you.” You hand him a neon green cake with bright yellow icing and sparkles on it, that he actually takes. “Won't it make you sick?”

He takes a bite “Did you offer because you thought I'd say no?”

“Well yeah, of course.” Your smile is fond, not quite natural yet but it's a good start.

You put your bag in a corner, drop the rest of the pastries far from Spoon's reach, and you go sit on the couch uninvited.

“It tastes like sugar on a sponge filled with sugar” you hear Wei complain as he comes to sit next to you. At the other side of the couch, but still too close. You scoot closer. He looks surprised. No, _delighted_.

“Can I try it?”

He hands you the pastry and you lean forward to steal a kiss, just a soft brush of your lips on his. It still sends shivers down your spine. You smirk but you feel your cheek heat up.

“Tastes like my favorite dessert.”

Your victorious smile fades when you realize just how tense he still is. Hesitating, holding back. Afraid of seeing you run, of losing you again.

“I'm going to move away from Los Diablos.” you admit. Not forever, not that you want to leave him behind. “I have a couple things to do in San Fransisco. And it's not like anyone is expecting to see me there.”

“I see.” He held a breath a moment too long, you could see it in the way his chest looks as heavy as yours in the way it rises and falls. The frown and clenched jaw are familiar, signs of someone about to fight, signs that Steel is just as determined as usual.

It's selfish, it's almost childish, but you want to change the look on his face, get a proof that you can still change his mind, change his mood. You cup his face in your hands, which grants you a surprise, pleased look. He does meet you halfway for a kiss, eyes closed, finally allowing himself to touch you. His hand rests on your shoulder, caressing the back of your neck, finding hair too short. He liked it long, he finds the way it's now curling _adorable_. You groan at that thought and he smiles, that kind of smile opposite to yours, that shows more in his eyes than on his lips. So you kiss him again, soft contacts turning sweet, teeth-aching sweetness turning passionate, leaving you both breathless.

“I thought I lost you again.”

You link your hands together, looking down though you know he's trying to meet your eyes. “Well. You almost did.” Ice spike. He brings you close. Kisses your hand.

“I'm not letting it happen again.”

You feel his questions, the many theories he has. Damn, he even made a couple drafts of plans, trying to find out how to help in the most efficient way. He won't let it happen, well neither are you. Doesn't mean it won't happen. Since when did the opinion of a couple people change anything. But you don't intend on making it easy for them.

“Let's not mix pleasure and business, will you?” You smile, he huffs, understanding too well that you're avoiding yet another serious conversation.

Kisses are easier than words. Touches come naturally. It would take hours to talk of battle plans and unpack all the bagage you kept from him the best you could for all this time. It would ruin the moment, ruin _your_ moment. So you kiss him a bit too long, he doesn't resist, doesn't insist. For now things are alright. For now you're at peace with the world.

 


End file.
